Expressions
by Lady Ami-chan
Summary: *Chapters 1-4 soon!* What if Amiboshi and Suboshi were born as twins in the real world, to a schizo mother?
1. Prince of Her Heart

Note and Disclaimer I don't own Amiboshi and Suboshi. This is only the first chapter. There will be more coming, but I don't feel like putting a disclaimer on all of them. So don't sue me, okay?  
  
  
  
  
  
Beneath her hands, he was sinuous, lithe and sleek, like a pale cat. His eyes glowed the indigo of a midnight sky, and his hair was smooth as spun silk. As she kneaded the muscles in his shoulders and back, he gave a moan of pleasure, and a smile of satisfaction crossed her face. She knew her craft was pleasurable, and she gave to it her whole heart.  
  
"That's perfect... right there," Amiboshi sighed, arching his back to guide her seeking hand to the sore muscle, then shivering lightly when she found it. He curled up peacefully among the multitudes of cushions, his eyes closing with the comfort as Kirai chased out the exhaustion from every part of him, leaving the pleasant enervation and sense of well-being. "You must read my mind."  
  
Kirai gave a secret, pleased smile. Amiboshi was her favorite of the regulars, for his soft scent, his easygoing way, and his ability to make her feel like a princess. Her uniform consisted of filmy, diaphanous silk pants that swirled and ballooned around her slim legs, and a long tunic- like robe, that fastened six times down her front with silk ribbons. With a rich chuckle that ranged from coloratura to contralto, she dripped some warm, sweet-smelling lavender oils from a vial, rubbing them into the already-fragrant skin, eliciting another soft moan. He was all she dreamed of. He filled her days and whiled her nights away. His presence had become a heady sensation, a strong temptation. Kirai loved the feel of her hands slipping over the soft, smooth skin, loved to pull from him the soft whispers of pleasure.  
  
She could tell when he slid into sleep, and gave herself a congratulatory smile when his breath deepened into the moth's-wing cadence of sleep, when his body relaxed entirely into the feline enervation and limp warmth. Gently she tugged a silken shawl from its tied position around her slender waist and covered his bare, glistening shoulders with it, smiling maternally. Amiboshi was so beautiful as he slept.  
  
She was jerked out of her reverie unkindly by the seizing of her long, slim, strong hands. Kirai gasped in dismay, softly so as not to rouse him. Stifling an oath, she picked up a tiny pot of ointment and rubbed a drop into each palm, smiling serenely when the muscles unclenched and relaxed. A feeling of faintness came over her, and she wilted silently into the pillows. Her last thought was of how simultaneously strong and soft he was against her feminine form, before there was dim blackness as her world.  
  
Amiboshi woke dimly, recognizing the feel of silk against his bare skin pleasantly. He inhaled the scent of jasmine, felt against his cheek smooth spun-satin and recognized it as her soft sparrow-brown hair. A pleasant thing to wake up to. He lifted one hand lazily to brush against her cheek and was concerned by the chill of it. "Kirai?" The one word took all the energy his drained body had to offer, so he hoped she could hear him.  
  
She followed his example and woke, sputtering softly as she forced her way up out of the comforting black depths. "Yes?" What a wonderful dream she had been having, she reflected, in which she slept nestled against his comforting strength, breathing the inebriating scent that was entirely, uniquely his, and feeling his caressing hands upon her. Her voice was a coloratura murmur, soft and swirling. She was still dreaming, she thought, lying with her head against his shoulder.  
  
Nor did Amiboshi wish to move her. "Nothing. Go on back to sleep," he whispered, his voice low and faintly seductive in his half-slumber. His indigo eyes fluttered shut, and before long he dreamed.  
  
Docilely obeying, Kirai submitted to the arm placed protectively over her shoulder. His proximity was warm, sweet, and soft.  
  
They next woke to the indignant screams of the mistress that ran the home in which Kirai was employed. "Kirai Chi!" Kirai's eyes snapped open instantly, and her body went cold. How could she have? What nerve did she have to sleep in his arms? Heavens, what a fool was Kirai!  
  
"Yes, ma'am?" Kirai whispered, cringing. She was a meek creature by nature, but somehow Amiboshi managed to bring the seductress out of her as she worked her craft. Her gray-blue eyes stared at the floor through lowered lashes as she scrambled out of his arms, causing him to give a soft groan in his sleep.  
  
"Get out! Get out! You and your lover!" the mistress screamed, shaking with fury. "You know the regulations! You may not pleasure our patrons, you're but a massage artist with no talent! You were supposed to send him upstairs... Go! Get out!" She left with a slam of the door.  
  
Kirai shivered softly. "Yes, mistress." The tears slipped silently down her pale face, and she drew from under a pillow her sack, placing within it her few possessions. "Lord Amiboshi. We must leave. Mistress Arashira will be sending for the guards..." Desperation seized the soft coloratura voice.  
  
Amiboshi eased himself up from the pillows, gazing at her with pity in his depthless indigo eyes. "I'm sorry." He stood, raking his hands through his hair, his expression worried. "Look, I really didn't mean to..." Stifling an oath, Amiboshi stared at the ground.  
  
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "I shouldn't have given in to weakness. I'm not a courtesan like those upstairs!" Defiance caught radiant flame in her eyes, making them look, to Amiboshi, like twin sapphires for a single instant, then the gray weariness slipped back into them.  
  
This poor beauty had often been beaten into submission, he thought, for it was apparent in those eyes. But she remained strong and sensitive -- the pleasant looseness of his muscles was due to this. Amiboshi slipped back into his tunic, fastening it close, and fumbling with the belt clumsily.  
  
Another soft laugh, and Kirai seized the belt, tying it about his waist adeptly. "I'll see you... someday." Her voice was sorrowful, and she stood on tiptoes to brush her silken lips over his cheek before sedately turning to walk away. It was the last he ever saw of her. 


	2. Present

Isaiah and Daniel sat outside the small, posh cafe, making idle conversation as each explored the depths of their own mind, compliments of sweet cafe-au-lait and sugar-dusted beignets. The New Orleans street was busy under the noonday sun, warm and bubbly with laughter. The trolley cars clattered past without taking notice of the handsome identical twins.  
  
In this life, there were so many comforts -- and so many annoyances. Isaiah slammed one fist down on the fragile glass table, causing the cups and plates to rattle discordantly. "What are we doing here?" His richly indigo eyes flashed dangerously.  
  
"Hush," Daniel fairly purred, enjoying the rhythm of the city, the life that seemed to surge through her like breath through a body. He wrapped his long, slim hands around the steaming mug of pale coffee, looking into the rich depths as though intrigued by something within. He was oblivious as his twin brother swore softly. Slowly Daniel lifted gently chastising eyes to meet Isaiah's, who instantly silenced. "We need to go home."  
  
"Why did I know you were going to say that?" Isaiah said caustically, thrusting one hand through his hair haphazardly. There was so much of it there, it fell into charming disarray. To still his trembling, he fortified himself with a deep draught of the piping-hot coffee, giving a mumbled curse as the hot liquid scorched his throat. He was fifteen, not a grown man, and he didn't particularly favor the bitter sting of hot coffee. "I don't want to go back to that... that hell."  
  
Daniel and Isaiah lived in the prettiest part of town, all sprawling Spanish mansions and brilliant flowering plants, in a place where life should have been coming up roses for the handsome twin boys, and it would have been if one hadn't taken into account their mother Lorelei's madness.  
  
It had been a long time since Lorelei had been sane by medical definition, and the endless vials of pills, syrups, and suspensions sat gathering dust in the bathroom cabinet. Oftentimes Daniel and Isaiah had seen them, and had also seen Lorelei at her peak of madness. Daniel received the torture-punishments. Daniel protected Isaiah with his life, with his own body.  
  
"But we have to, or she'll come after us. Besides, we don't have enough money to rent a hotel room, and we can't live off of cafe-au-lait and beignets," Daniel said reasonably, biting into one of the sweet pastries. He chewed his mouthful, then continued thoughtfully. "Maybe if we can get her to take her medicine, it won't be so bad..." Although he knew better, he also knew Isaiah would be reassured. The weal across the younger twin's side was finally healing, compliments of Daniel's careful tending and sensitive mind.  
  
The twins had a special bond, so close that either could feel the other's pain or pleasure. Daniel had learned to think so quietly sometimes that Isaiah couldn't read him, but Isaiah himself was so open and readable to Daniel that it was almost unsettling, or would have been to an outsider. Of course it was normal to the pair.  
  
"True. Fine, we'll go home, Daniel, if you promise to be careful. I worry about you..." Isaiah studied Daniel with a deep indigo stare that pierced to his heart. Slowly Daniel nodded. As one the pair rose from the table, laughed, and began their walk home. 


	3. Only Who I Am

She had beaten him again.  
  
He always felt guilty afterwards, even when the heaviness had subsided from his limbs and the thick, liquid pleasure was gone. His dignity was sprained. And that was what Daniel was: cool, unruffled dignity, in perfect complement and contrast to Isaiah's passionate, almost childishly trusting nature.  
  
Almost sulkily he padded into the sumptuous bathroom, turning the shower up to its highest, hottest setting. With resolve, he stepped into it, hissing discomfort as the heat washed over his exposed skin, but feeling as though the blistering sensation was cleansing him of the sweat and blood shed. It was almost a ritual for Daniel; when she would do such acts, he would shower under the hottest spray he could handle for the longest time he possibly could.  
  
He leaned against the shower wall, feeling the cool porcelain against his water-heated, flushed cheek. His body gave a last tremble before it gave up, and he shivered violently, disgusted. Hefting the bar of soap in one hand and a wash towel in the other, he cleaned himself thoroughly, scrubbing his skin red.  
  
Finally he sank to a crouch, his slick, soaked shoulder sliding against the cold tile, his wet hair fluttering around his face. Daniel didn't remember the other times to have been so bad. The guilt wouldn't recede, no matter how much he hated her.  
  
After a moment, he stood, turning off the blistering flow with a wrench to the knob. On a whim, he looked into the mirror and was almost frightened by what he saw.  
  
A nubile boy, with dark-blond hair that trailed down his slightly- long neck, tall and pale. Normalcy in the highest, for him. But his eyes... normally depthless, almost painted, Michelangelo eyes, were deep and vulnerable, indigo and afire with shame and guilt. Damn Lorelei!  
  
Then he saw his twin behind him, his eyes wide and frightened, his hands trembling as he reached out. Tears gathered in his eyes, tangling in his lashes. Isaiah suddenly surrounded him in a world of comfort, whispering soft reassurances. "I'm so sorry, Daniel... I swear, I never knew." His eyes were wide and frightened.  
  
Daniel leaned limply upon his younger twin, weeping painful, translucent tears onto his shoulder. His sadness poured out in great waves over them both. Time became their staunch ally, as Daniel wished every moment that this instant in safe happiness would never end.  
  
"We'll find some way to get out of here," Isaiah promised, his eyes fierce. "Somehow!" 


	4. Meeting Ami-chan

Isaiah fidgeted in front of the mirror, his handsome, proud features drawn into a frown of distaste. "Uniforms. Who needs them, anyway?" Despite himself, he couldn't help but chuckle at the public-school navy and khaki that swathed him uncomfortably.  
  
Daniel sensibly smiled. "If we're going to go to school, we have to look the part as well." Standing next to his twin, they looked absolutely identical when both clad in the uniforms. "Besides, they're calming colors."  
  
"Colors?" Isaiah snorted, staring incredulously at Daniel. "Calming colors. Yes. Very practical. But then, I'm not practical!" With that, he affectionately shoved his brother down onto the uniform-laden bed, laughing as Daniel surfaced from the once-neat stacks, sputtering.  
  
Feigning upset, Daniel stood calmly, shaking his head as he dusted invisible particles from the immaculate navy-blue shirt. "You know, we could just be hapless idiots for the rest of eternity."  
  
"I'd rather not," Isaiah said sourly, then distastefully stripped off the uniform, clambering back into the blessed sanctuary of his own loose jeans and muscle shirt. "I won't complain. But I don't particularly favor them."  
  
"I know," Daniel sighed wearily, keeping one indigo eye out for Lorelei as Isaiah stalked out the door into the humid New Orleans autumn evening.  
  
A laughing, bubbly maid moved effervescently toward the large high school, chattering in excited happiness. Daniel and Isaiah walked with their heads down in the opposite way, engaged in hushed conversation. In an instant, the three collided, to startled shouts.  
  
Daniel found himself blushing like a child as he helped up from her awkward position on the cement a girl with long tea-brown hair and eyes as blue as a southern summer sky. Her lips were full and appeared silken, and she stammered softly, "I'm so sorry!" Her voice was a sweet, cultured soprano, almost French in its fragile delicacy. He knew he had seen her before, and heard that soft coloratura trill of a voice, but he couldn't place it.  
  
A sudden surge of ache that had nothing to do with the collision slipped into Daniel, and he lowered his head to prevent her from seeing the cardinal-red flush that crept hotly over his face, a strange herald. "It's fine. Are you all right, miss?" He cursed his not-yet-sturdy voice, but kept a concerned look on his face.  
  
She stood there before him awkwardly, dusting her long poet's hands off on her khaki-colored skirt as she nodded, causing a ripple of gold to move through the thick brown masses. "I'm fine... but I've never seen you here before. What's your name?"  
  
"Daniel. And this is my brother, Isaiah. This is our first year in this school --" Daniel elbowed Isaiah who looked at him, his indigo eyes sparkling with conquest. Silently Daniel warned him off the pretty, innocent girl, and Isaiah straightened. Of course he would respect his older twin's wishes, even when it meant going against his own, baser ones.  
  
The girl gave a soft laugh. "Twins! It's been awhile since we've had twins in our little community. I'm Kay, also known as Ami-chan by those who truly care about me." Another light laugh escaped the full lips. "I'm a freshman here, in ninth grade." She stooped to gather her knapsack, a pale cotton affair with roses painted on it. "I'd better get to class. I have French during first hour -- take care! 'Bye!"  
  
Around himself Daniel could almost feel the glow of her effervescent laughter, feel the sweetness of the jasmine-scented perfume she wore, feel the silky texture of her hair on his sensitive hands. She had neatly made him an admirer, Daniel thought, but he harbored no resentment. Somehow he felt that she wasn't admired by many, but that those few that did know her, loved her.  
  
Isaiah laughed. "Already making friends with the girls, aniki?" Then he paused, and lines of curiosity traced the angelic forehead beneath the soft dark-blond bangs he wore identical to his brother's. "Where did that name come from? It's so familiar, but I can't remember... Anyway, we'd better be getting to class, or we'll be late." A brilliant smile traced Isaiah's lips, and he strode off in the direction of class.  
  
Daniel stood there a moment, gazing up at the cloudless autumn sky thoughtfully, then walked regally in the direction of the French class. He didn't feel like himself, not at all. 


End file.
